IS: Ironclad Supremacy
by Erit of Eastcris
Summary: They carried the weight of the land in hands shod from steel, upon backs lashed by memory. In their blood ran power and metal, in their hearts lived fire and glass. And their greatest strength... would always be each other.


"You think I'd be used to all the attention by now, huh?" He mused to his friend in the neighboring seat, a wry grin on his face. Indeed, being the little brother of Orimura "Brynhildr" Chifuyu should have inured Ichika to the anxiety that came from being center-stage, but he'd never quite gotten used to all eyes being on him whenever he was even vaguely in public.

Gotanda Dan, said friend in the next seat over on the fourty-person zeppelin ride, glanced peevishly over at Ichika but didn't make eye contact, grumbling out the reply of "Yeah, you'd think at least _some_ of them would look at the rest of us, but no, we just had to be on the same flight as an Orimura." He sighed, looking wistfully around the hold of the airship, specifically at the other passengers. "Man, three-to-one ratio on this blimp, but all the chicks are making doe eyes at Mr. Famous..."

Ichika breathed a nervous laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, prosthetic arm whirring softly through the motion. "Sorry, Dan... Can't help who I'm related to, you know?"

Dan waved a hand, his own mechanical limb clicking quietly. "Yeah, yeah... I swear, if I land in your class I'm gonna cry..."

He chuckled nervously again, glancing around at the other occupants of the aircraft, a sheepish smile on his lips as he took in the twenty-some sets of eyes all glued to him in the dull light of the hold. Like Dan and himself, each of the passengers was technically crippled, having lost their arms just above the elbow and their legs just above the knee. Technically crippled because, like everyone who survived exposure to Phage, they'd been outfitted with cybernetic replacements that went beyond bleeding edge and encroached on science fiction, with full articulation and even limited tactile senses. And Ichika was fully aware that each of the girls currently studying him like a zoo exhibit had a very particular goal in mind. Inwardly, he sighed and despaired, wondering how best to deal with busloads of girls who all wanted to be partnered with him because of his family name and the acclaim that came with it; they probably thought being assigned with him would lead to easy fortune and glory, heads filled with romantic ideals of protecting the Domiciles and humanity by day and living the high life by night. It was a shame, to him, that some of them wouldn't recognize the truth until it tore through their bodies worse than Phage had, that some of the people on the zeppelin with him now would likely be in the crypt before long because of that.

"I don't think you will, Dan," he eventually reassured his friend, speaking quietly so none of the others could overhear, "from what I've heard, the draw's going to be rigged a little bit; something about putting me in with only the best stock." He suppressed the urge to gag at the notion that he was basically a prize bull to the ones who would be in charge of his life for the years to come. "Besides, ISA has a 65% minimum threshold for partnering. How many do you honestly think will hit that high a sync with me?"

Dan seemed to cheer up a little bit at that, picking himself up from the dejected slouch he'd fallen into. "Yeah... yeah, you're right." He grinned, and seemed himself again, so Ichika mirrored the expression. A murmer ran through the girls eyeing him in response and Dan sighed again. "Still, it sucks that the rest of us have to pick from your leftovers."

"Don't say it like that, man; you make me sound like a monster."

"You mean you're not, 'Mistilteinn'?" Dan retorted with the most punchable of smirks on his face. Ichika responded to the nickname with a whithering glare, and his redheaded friend was quick to raise his hands in surrender, "Alright, sorry. Geeze, are-"

The lights flashed to dark room red, and Dan cut himself off as the assembled passengers stirred, standing up from their seats and collecting the one bag they each had been allowed for personal effects before assembling in two loose columns for disembarking. When the boarding ramp cracked open and started lowering, letting the late afternoon sunlight pour in, not a single one of those assembled on the ship wasn't dazzled by the sudden brightness, flinching in discomfort and blinking spots from their vision before, as an authoritative voice Ichika only barely recognized started barking orders and they descended the ramp.

Infinite Stratos Academy—only ever addressed as ISA even in formal documentation—was not a small place, nor an unimportant organization. Rather, it was one of the largest UN projects in history and was given an entire island for its facilities, a veritable metropolis geared first towards training Ironclads—those who, like Ichika and Dan, had survived exposure to Phage and chosen military augmentation rather than paying the fees for civilian adjustment—and second towards providing them with reasonably comfortable living arrangements. Nobody ever truly left ISA after they signed on; they were simply given extended deployments. Those who deserted...

The sound of Chifuyu Orimura, who had adopted the western habit of putting the given name first, delivering verbal dressings-down for this or that reason washed over Ichika's flight group as they filed off two-by-two onto the mooring tower, where they briskly descended the three story structure to the ground below and assembled alongside the other flights. Ichika was not in the least bit surprised that his sister was being a hardass, but he hoped—in knowing futility when faced with his luck with the women in his life—that he could escape having her ire focused solely on him. With such a goal in mind, he fell into line with his bag at his feet, and kept his gaze forward rather than peering around at the grounds. For a small miracle, it worked, and he managed to pass the time unmolested until everyone had assembled and ISA's induction ceremony could begin.

His sister, a physically imposing woman even without the black lustre of tungsten prosthetics or the sharp dress uniform with a colorful array of rank and achievement insignias at the lapel, glared hawkishly at the lot of them from her podium with slitted, feline eyes the same shade of wine-red as Ichika's own; Chifuyu had been the first Ironclad, Subject Zero for a lot of first-generation experimental augments, and was still regarded as the best among them over a decade later. Nobody with a head on their shoulders was surprised that she held a high position at ISA, being the singularly most experienced person at dealing with the threat they were being trained to combat.

"Pathetic." She growled in mostly accent-free English, not needing a microphone for her voice to carry to every one of the few hundred new arrivals but using one anyway. "Utterly pathetic. Others might be less to the point, but I have neither the time, the patience, nor the incentive to dance around problems. I look out at this throng of people and I don't see the future or victory or any such nonsense. You know what I see?" She swept a hand out over them all, scowling like she'd just stepped in something foul. "I see squandered potential. I see rust and weakness and _waste_. I see cannon fodder, lambs that mistake themselves for lions." She paused, noting the reactions that ranged from stoic acceptance to crestfallen dejection. "My job is not to help you each realize greatness. If you have any fool notions of glory and glamour, my job is to disabuse you of them. My job is to scour you free of rust, with acid and steel wool. My job is to break you so you can be reforged as weapons against the Spooks." A few of those assembled shuffled nervously at the mention of the enemy's name. "If you make my job easy enough, you can sieze greatness for yourself. If you make my job hard, I won't bother punishing you, because the Spooks will do it for me. Make your choices, newbies, and make 'em count."

"Brynhildr" departed then, being replaced by another woman, presumably their group's councilor; a diminutive, green-haired woman in glasses and dressed in casual fatigues that showed a generous amount of very ample cleavage—Ichika did a double-take for that, knowing ISA's dress code wasn't very strict but wondering how showing one's _bra_ could pass regs. In contrast to Chifuyu's wintry demeanor and domineering presence, she was all smiles with a spring to her step that did interesting things with that very visible bust.

"Alright, everyone!" She chirped, clapping her hands—ceramic, the prosthetic equivalent to semi-formal attire unlike the dull titanium most of the new attendees had equipped—and inadvertently flashing the silver chevrons embossed on the backs that had everyone snapping to attention again. "Welcome to ISA, it's nice to meet you all! My name is Maya Yamada, and I've been assigned as the councilor and warden for your group. I look forward to helping all of you find good squadmates, now if you could all pick up your bags and follow me I'll show you to your dorms!"

"Man, would you check out those puppies." Dan whispered conspiratorially as everyone grabbed their stuff and followed Ms. Yamada in loose formation. "Makes me wish I could get _her_ as a partner... ah, that would be the dream..."

Ichika snorted, "If you end up doing Corps work, you just might. I know you didn't miss those marks, Dan."

His redheaded friend deflated some at that, "Yeah, no... I don't think I'd wanna join that bunch even _if_ I qualify. I'll leave that to you."

Having the chance now, Ichika swiveled his head around to take in the group he'd be spending the next six months, at least, bunking with. Maybe sixty guys total, counting himself, to what looked like 140 girls; a surprisingly balanced ratio. The odds of surviving initial Phage exposure long enough to receive treatment was between four and five percent for females, and less than one percent for males. For the gender balance to only be two-to-one, give or take, was impressive. Of course, eyeballing it was far from accurate; everyone was dressed in the same white-and-red ISA uniform slacks and coat. Far from form-flattering, meaning it was entirely possible he mistook some unfortunately pretty boys for girls or vice versa. Lots of different nationalities, too; Japanese of course, since he snd Dan were there, but he also saw European, Indian, Chinese, South American, even a Pacific Islander or two. Phage wasn't choosy about where it spread, after all; hot sites showed up everywhere outside Domiciles, and Hives in particular were devastating when they appeared.

Ms. Yamada gave them a basic run-down of things as the company traversed the facilities, holding the rapt attention of most of the two hundred-odd under her proverbial wing. The gymnasium the size of multiple city blocks, housing the rec center, sparring arenas, weight rooms and even two swimming pools, one reserved for training and the other general-use. The Ironworks where they would be doing maintenance work on their gear, and those with engineering aptitude could apprentice under the RD division. Medical ward, library, the actual academy building where classes were held, then finally the student residential quarter, a giant eighteen-story building that they'd call home for the next four years.

"Bunk assignments are on the board over there on the right," Ms. Yamada gestured towards the board in question, lined from top to bottom and end to end with a list of names attached to designations. "Please form an _orderly_ line and place your bag in your assigned bed as soon as you find it." The pleasant smile was accompanied by an incongruous note of steel that had the new arrivals shivering a little, the chevrons still fresh in their memory. "Then you will all have two hours to get acquainted with your dormmates before lunch. My office is just over here if you need any assistance later on." She waved towards an automated door on the far side of the common room, then the herd started filing into line to check their room assignments. Quietly, Ichika made his way over to the councilor instead, waving politely to grab her attention.

"Ichika Orimura, I presume?" She chirped quietly, seemingly more in her element with individuals.

"Er, yes. I apologise if this is out of line, but are there any specific instructions for me, or do I get the same treatment as the others?"

She nodded knowingly, "It was proposed, but ultimately rejected. No worries; just find your bunk and try to get settled in. If people start giving you trouble, you should know what to do, yes?"

He smiled sheepishly and shifted the bag hanging over his shoulder, "Yeah, I do. Thank you, Ms. Yamada."

"Oh, no. Please, call me Maya; wardens are supposed to be relaxed with their charges."

There was a mild hope that the heat on his his face didn't mean he was blushing; judging from the red tinge the warden's own face adopted, that hope was in vain. To be expected from two people born and raised in Japanese society with its very rigid sense of social propriety. "Then..." He cleared his throat and stilled his thoughts quickly before they ran away from him, "Thank you... Maya."

Her blush became more pronounced, creeping down her face and neck towards...

Before his thoughts ran away with him, Ichika excused himself and got in line. Ten long minutes later, he walked into Room B, a fourty-person shared dormitory, ten sets of bunkbeds to each side of the room. He set his bag on bed six, halfway from the door, with a light _thwump_ and sat down, getting a feel for the springs he'd be sleeping on for the next six months at least; every Ironclad spent their first term at ISA in a shared barracks nicknamed a Nest, even if they found a partner sooner thsn that. It was meant to force the making of bonds, but... some took to the lifestyle easier than others. Case in point; a rather pretty European girl with long blonde hair, dressed in the sane white-with-red-trim slacks and jacket, who gawked at the room once she stepped in, very visibly put out by something about it.

"I..." She choked, striding daintily into the barracks before catching sight of him. "Excuse me, this is Room B, correct?" She asked, a very urbane accent to her English telling him two things immediately; she was British, and aristocratic.

 _Time to put those three years of language courses to work, I guess._ He smiled and bobbed his head, "It is indeed. How can I help you, miss...?"

"Alcott. Cecilia Alcott. Am I really... supposed to be sleeping in bunkbeds here?"

"Yeeyup." He said with purposeful bluntness. "Six months minimum, longer if you don't sync well." You'd think she'd have been briefed on that much, but then again Ichika had family on the inside and had been on course for ISA for a dozen years now.

The look on Cecilia's face flickered between a gamut of emotions too fast for him to make much sense of it, before finally settling on a mixture of indignance and disbelief. "And there are no issues that the communal lodgings are co-ed, apparently?" She growled.

"They're supposed to be, so nope."

"Absolutely unacceptable!" She fumed, "They would have me share a room with random _men_?"

"They're only strangers until you meet them, Cecilia!" He chirped, smiling and keeping his tone lighthearted despite the faint urge to shake this woman. "And it goes both ways, too."

"That is completely irrelevant! As an Alcott I _refuse_ to be treated like a commoner!" She even stamped her foot for emphasis, causing Ichika's smilr to turn from polite to wry as he sighed.

"I won't claim to know what makes your family a big deal, but it doesn't matter anymore. You're not British anymore and you're certainly not an influencial aristocrat; you, like everyone else on this island, are Ironclad." He stood, then, leaning casually against the frame of his bunk and meeting her furious gaze with his own bemused calm. "You sold your soul to ISA when you chose to carry metal, and gave up whatever comforts you had back in your old life when you got on the ship. If you want out now you'll have to go back under the knife for civilian sockets, unless you want the Corps knocking down your door and kicking in your teeth."

"Wh-what? What do you mean? Who even _are_ you to speak to me like that?!" She gaped, confusion dousing her anger before pride rekindled it.

... Oh. Oh, that's how it was, why she was out of her depth. "I see... You're a Duce, aren't you?"

"Duce?"

"Duce. As in, induced exposure. You chose to be exposed to Phage rather than being having the misfortune of encountering it in the wild."

"Well, yes, but I-"

She stilled as his smile fell and was replaced by a stony, scowling mask of distaste. "You were put under a medical coma and exposed in a controlled environment where your safety was all but guaranteed." His arms folded, the grey of his fake limbs catching the artificial light and shining with a dull lustre. "Unlike us Nates, natural exposure cases, you didn't need to feel it all as your nervous system started firing itself into oblivion, as your blood turned to rotten sludge and your body started to rot away starting with the fingers and toes. You didn't have to endure the panic attacks or seizures as your hormones went berserk and adrenaline flooded you, didn't need to watch as death crept closer minute by minute with little hope of help. You didn't have to listen as other exposure victims choked their last before help could arrive." He blinked away the threatening tears, shoved aside the images that came screaming up to the front of his mind. "Instead you got to take a nap and wake up to new possibilities, the security of knowing you're forever immune to Phage, and in your case no doubt a lot of praise and acclaim for making such a bold choice to sign up as an Ironclad."

Ichika sighed, then, pinching the bridge of his nose and averting his wine-red eyes from her own deep blues. "... Sorry. A word of advice; don't let on that you're a Duce. It's a touchy subject for most of us who didn't have the fortune of a choice."

From his peripheral vision he made out a dumbstruck nod as Cecilia fumbled for words. "I... Will keep that in mind. But, I still have not gotten your name?"

He chuckled in response, "How rude of me, I'm sorry. Ichika Orimura," he extended a hand towards her, "it's nice to meet you, Cecilia."

"L-likewise, Ichika." He smiled at how her accent stumbled a little over his name as she shook the offered hand, noting the dainty cast of her cybernetics. "Wait, Orimura as in...?"

"She's my older sister." He nodded briefly, "But, please, there's no need to make a big deal out of it; just Ichika will be fine."

She returned the smile and nod, then. "Very well. Then, it is acceptable for you to simply address me as Cecilia. Incidentally, do you know which of these is bed six?"

"Huh. Oh, yeah." He released the shake and tapped the bedframe he'd just been leaning on, "This one here. Looks like we're bunkmates, huh?"

They shared a blush at that as she nodded, hefting the bag she'd set aside. "Erm... do you mind if I... 'claim top', then...?"

He swallowed and tried _very_ hard not to picture anything. "N-not at all... go right ahead."

It was going to be an interesting six months.

——————————

 _Notes:_

 _Not really a whole bunch to say here. Yes, Ichika's a bit OOC, but hopefully in an enjoyable way that will make for a more interesting read._

 _This will start as a harem fic and slowly transition out of that as time passes and we approach that six month mark in-story, where the best girl wins._ _Who's best girl you ask? ... Why spoil it?_

 _So no, just because Cecilia's the first girl on set doesn't necessarily mean she's in the lead. This is just how the flow of events came together; next chapter we'll meet Rin, then after that Houki and later Charl. Laura won't show up for a much longer time, but that's because I actually have some ideas for her that I hope will pan out well, rather than because I don't like her._

 _As ever, thank you for reading and I'll see you next time._


End file.
